Three Nights In Dallas
by TootMyOwnHorn
Summary: When Nick can't get a flight out of Dallas and all the hotels are booked, he is forced to impose upon Diane's hospitality and stay at her house. Nick is still struggling with his feelings and can hardly admit them to himself, so how will he cope with sharing a bed with the woman he...no, mustn't go there.
1. Chapter 1

**Three Nights In Dallas**

"So you'll call?" Diane asks.

"As soon as I get back," Nick assures her, smiling wistfully at her before turning away and making his way to the international departures gate.

Whilst the date on his ticket back to London had lapsed, what with everything that had happened, he figured there must be some kind of transfer program put in place and it would be as simple as showing his expired ticket and receiving a replacement flight.

He was wrong.

After waiting in line for the better part of an hour (not that he minded, he spent the time reminiscing about his last plane trip with Diane) Nick was told that not only would he not be able to simply replace his old ticket with a new one, but that the airspace was only open for domestic flights for at least the next three days and they couldn't guarantee if and when he'd be able to get a flight back to London.

Nick's initial reaction was one of disappointment, until he realised that he'd just been given the gift of three extra days with Diane. He hurried over to a pay phone and excitedly dialled her number, hoping she would have made it home already to be able to answer.

On the third ring, she picked up.

"Hello, Diane speaking…" she began, sounding tired and a little snuffly. Nick realised with alarm that she'd been crying.

"Diane? It's Nick. I hope you don't mind me calling, I…are, are you alright?"

"Oh Nick! It's so good to hear your voice!" she exclaimed, already sounding brighter than she had when she answered.

"Yes, I'm fine," she went on. "I was just… oh, it's nothing, it's silly. Anyway, why'd you call? You're not gonna miss your flight now, are you?"

"Well, that's the thing," he began. "Apparently there are no international flights leaving the U.S. at the moment, so at this stage I'm here for at least the next three days."

"Oh no!" she said, although he thought she sounded about as disappointed as he was – namely, not at all. "Will that be a problem for your work?"

"At this stage, I couldn't really care," he said, and was amazed at the weight that lifted from his shoulders at the admission. One thing he'd taken away from the events of the past week was a new set of priorities and the realisation that work was nowhere near as high on that list as it once had been.

Another thing this week had given him had been a renewed sense of confidence He smiled into the receiver, took a breath and continued.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you might like to have dinner while I'm here?" he asked. "Now that my conference is cancelled, I'm at a bit of a loose end here and I thought, well…." he trailed off, becoming less certain as he went on.

"That sounds lovely!" Diane replied and Nick felt his shoulders slump with relief. He hadn't been aware he'd been tensing them. This newfound sense of confidence was all well and good, but he supposed he had a long way to go given the nervous and self-conscious mess he'd been at the start of the week.

They made plans for dinner at Diane's house later that night and Nick hung up the phone unable to keep the smile from inching across his features. He picked up his luggage and made for the information desk to look into booking a hotel for the duration of his time here.

Some time later, Nick was beginning to grow rather frustrated. The woman at the desk had told him both of the airport-affiliated hotels were completely booked out and while she had been kind enough to try a few of the other hotels around town on his behalf, she'd been unable to find anything available.

After the third call, she'd handed him a phone book with an apologetic look before waving forward the next person in line. Nick had frowned but studiously began flipping through in search of any other local hotels, motels or B&B's that might possibly have a room for him.

Time and time again he'd received the same message: fully booked due to grounded passengers.

It felt like he'd been on the phone for hours. Nick glanced at his watch, then realised with alarm that he had in fact spent far longer than he'd meant to and if he wasn't careful, he'd be late for dinner with Diane.

Gathering up his things and tossing the phone book back onto the information desk with a call of "Thanks!" over his shoulder, Nick ran out of the airport and straight into the first waiting taxi he could find.

Panting, he gave Diane's address before collapsing back against the leather seat and pulling his glasses off to polish. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut against the creeping exhaustion. Despite being a seasoned traveller, he'd never quite been able to manage jet lag.

As it was, the journey was over in a moment – though Nick wasn't sure if that was because it was a genuinely short trip or if he just passed out for most of it – and Nick found himself standing in what appeared to be Diane's driveway.

Gathering up his suitcase, he began to walk towards her door, but paused when he considered the picture he was presenting.

_God, what must she think of me, turning up on her doorstep suitcase in hand? Pretty presumptuous there, old boy. Better think of a way to explain this…_

Nick took a deep breath as he reached out a hand and knocked three times with a cautious fist. The nerves had begun to swirl and he hated the thought of their first dinner together being soured by her thinking the worst of him and his intentions.

But then all other thoughts simply left his head as the door opened and Diane welcomed him in with an easy smile.

"You made it okay?" she asked and then went to kiss him just as he opened out one arm to hug her. They both paused and readjusted, nearly bumping into each other as each misread the other's moves once again. They stopped and laughed awkwardly, settling for a handshake (much to Nick's disappointment, not that he was willing to admit it).

"Can I take your bags?" she asked, pointing to the luggage still clamped in Nick's left hand.

"Oh, uh, yes, about that… it's not what it looks like, I just… I've been trying to get a hotel but so far everywhere has been booked and I …"

"Stay here," Diane responded simply.

Nick froze, his eyes blinking behind steel frames.

"Are…are you sure? Only, I wouldn't want to impose," he began.

"Oh don't be silly, of course you can stay here! Seems ridiculous to spend extra cash on a hotel when you can stay with me. Besides, I'd like the company," she said with a sly grin, nudging him playfully with her shoulder.

"Well, if it's not too much of an inconvenience… I mean I'll just kip on the couch, don't want to get in your hair."

Diane tutted, shaking her head.

"It's fine, Nick. Come on," she beckoned. "I'll give you the tour."

Diane took his free hand in hers and began winding them around her spacious house, showing off the kitchen, living room ("brand new second hand sofa, courtesy of David") and bedroom.

Bedroom.

Singular.

It also didn't escape Nick's attention that it was this room Diane chose to relieve him of his suitcase and leave it at the foot of the bed.

He swallowed. So much for not presuming.

"Bathroom's at the end of the hall if you'd like to freshen up. In the meantime, I'd better go check on dinner, can I get you anything to drink?"

After gratefully accepting an offer of wine, Nick made his way to the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

With his hands resting either side of the basin, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

_Come on, Marson, get it together,_ he glared at himself. _Just because she's invited you to stay doesn't mean anything's going to happen, so you can stop those thoughts right there, Mister. _

The blue eyes of his reflected self stared back at him through the frames of his glasses and as he heaved a sigh and watched the shoulders in the mirror slump, he sent out a silent prayer.

_Please, let this go well_.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Diane was flitting back and forth between checking on the oven and pouring two glasses of wine on the bench with shaking hands.

_God, why am I so nervous?_ she thought to herself. _It's just dinner. You've had plenty of people over for dinner before. _She put the bottle stopper back into the wine bottle and returned it to the shelf.

_Yes, but none of those dinners ever started with a guarantee that your guest would be staying the night_ another part of her answered.

She took a large gulp from her glass of wine.

_You can do this_ she thought as she steeled her resolve, picked up the other glass and walked out into the living room, just as Nick was walking into the kitchen.

The two collided, upending the glasses and sloshing the wine all over Diane.

"Oh my word, I'm so sorry, here let me…" Nick stammered, trailing after her as she took the (now empty) glasses over to the sink and picked up a cloth.

Nick picked up another, running it under the tap before beginning to dab at the stains seeping into Diane's chest.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and it seemed to take him a minute before he realised exactly which part of her he was dabbing at.

"Oh." He stopped, flustered; two spots of colour rising high in his cheeks.

"You know, usually I wait until after dinner before moving on to second base," Diane began, "but hey, I like your initiative!"

Nick's flush only deepened. Diane laughed.

"It's ok, I'm only teasing. Hey, I'm going to go and change my top, can you keep an eye on the oven?"

"Sure," he murmured, clearly still mortified.

As Diane left the room, Nick began silently berating himself.

_Not only have you invited yourself over to stay, now you've gone and mauled the woman in her own kitchen. Smooth moves, Marson. _

He gently opened the oven door and was treated to the succulent smell of a roast.

"How's it looking?" he heard a voice ask from the doorway.

He spun round and promptly froze. Diane had changed into a deep blue dress and had swept her hair up and Nick couldn't help but notice the way it accentuated her curves. As his eyes traced the line of her slender neck, he realised he was starting to stare.

"Um, good," he cleared his throat. "It's looking good. The roast, I mean," he finished lamely.

She smiled. _God, she was beautiful_.

Nick was reminded again of her open, easy nature and the way she had put him at ease all those times in Gander – on the plane, on the bus, up at Dover Fault. It was one of the first things that had drawn him to her.

Diane came to stand beside him, peering into the oven window.

"You know, I think you're right. It looks good to me! I'll just serve up, can you grab me out some tongs?" She gave Nick directions as to which drawer they could be located in, but she had made the mistake of laying her hand on his shoulder as she spoke and he subsequently hadn't taken in anything she'd said. The gentle warmth of her touch was intoxicating.

After bashfully asking her to repeat herself, she grinned warmly up at him, taking his hand and leading him over to the drawer herself. She pointed out the tongs and left him with a peck on the cheek, once again giggling at the way it made him freeze before blushing scarlet.

The rest of the dinner passed in a much easier fashion. Diane's open nature and gentle jokes helped Nick to relax and before long they were regaling each other with memories from Gander and their lives before. Diane spoke about her holiday with David and the sights she'd seen in London (Nick interjecting so often with travel tips that she ended by huffing "well you'll just have to be our guide next time we're there!" – Nick pushed down the warm bubble of pleasure he could feel growing in his chest at that and settled for a quietly pleased smile).

In turn, Nick gave a very dry prediction of what his conference would have been like, had he attended.

"Based on the other twenty-two identical conferences I've attended in the past, I think I could just about run it myself now" he said, before launching into what Diane suspected were eerily accurate impressions of various conference executives, which had her in stitches.

As Diane returned with their second glass of wine (this one mercifully staying in its glass) Nick noticed she chose to sit much closer on the sofa than she had previously.

Bolstering his confidence, Nick laid one arm along the back of the sofa towards Diane's shoulder and began to gently play with the lock of hair he found there.

She hummed softly, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. She leaned over to set her wine glass down on the coffee table before turning to him to murmur

"You know, it's getting late. I think I might get ready for bed…"

_Oh. Right, well…_

"Well, good night then," Nick said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. He stood, offering her a tight smile before leaning down to peck her on the cheek.

Nick turned to begin arranging the cushions at one end of the sofa and failed to see the look of confusion and rejection on Diane's face.

"You're not seriously thinking of sleeping there, are you?" she asked.

Only, it's full of popped springs down one end, they'll wreak havoc on your back. It's the reason I took the couch off David's hands – I figured there's usually only me here and I can sit on the undamaged end. But I wouldn't want to sleep there. Anyway, you should just sleep in the bed, there's plenty of room" she finished quickly, eyes on the floor and a gentle blush curling up her neck.

Nick hesitated, unsure of himself and not wanting to presume. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes either. Thankfully though, this meant his gaze caught the offer of her hand.

He cautiously reached out and took it, feeling her curl her fingers through his before leading him upstairs to the bedroom.

She left him to get changed while she brushed her teeth and it was with trembling fingers that he buttoned up his Marks & Spencers pyjamas before perching awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

Diane returned and he sprung up off the bed, suddenly all limbs and, despite trying to keep a respectful distance, suddenly everywhere he turned he was in Diane's way.

She gestured awkwardly out into the hall, telling him to help himself to soap and toothpaste and anything else he might need in the bathroom. He gladly took his leave and paused for a moment to catch his breath before opening the spare toothbrush Diane had left out for him.

He suddenly felt like a fifteen year old again, nerves aquiver and heart trying to thump out of his chest. He wondered what this might lead to.

Should he sleep on top of the covers? Which side of the bed would he sleep on? What was Diane expecting?

He should really offer again to sleep on the sofa, comfort be damned. At this stage, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to maintain propriety with Diane laying there so close.

As he rinsed the toothpaste from his mouth, he tried to ignore the images of Diane that were flashing unbidden through his brain. First, Diane in woollen pyjamas, then a camisole and little shorts, then a silk nightie and then (Nick gulped) nothing.

He splashed some water on his face, gave his reflection a stern glare (just short of wagging a finger) and returned to the bedroom.

He stopped short in the doorway at the sight of Diane on the right side of the bed, sitting up against the pillows in what appeared to be a grey silk nightie. _Well, that's that question answered…_ Nick thought absently. The left corner of the sheets had been turned down and as Diane looked up at him, she patted the mattress invitingly.

Nick gulped once more and padded over, easing under the covers before lying rigid, determinedly maintaining a six-inch gap between them. Propriety, and all that.

Although, if he was being honest, it wasn't even about propriety any more. Nick was, and always will be, a gentleman, it's just the way he was raised. But given the path his thoughts have been taking recently, he isn't sure he can claim to be a gentleman in that moment.

He can't deny it any more, he wants Diane. He's crazy about Diane. Falling head over heels in…_no! _Nick clamped down on that thought almost before it occurred.

That was the real reason he was lying there stiff as a board, not making a move. He was scared. Scared of making himself vulnerable, of exposing himself to the woman he…._no, Marson, don't even think it._

Because what if she said no?

What if she laughed, or worse, got mad (rightly enough) and kicked him out?

Diane was beautiful, kind and easy to be with. She was gentle and good and funny and God, she was gorgeous. In what bizarre world would she be with a stammering, stumbling, bespectacled, awkward Englishman?

Diane readjusted her pillows and slid down to lie on her side, facing towards him and running a concerned eye over his stiff posture.

"Nick, is everything alright?"

"Hmm? Just tired, I suppose," he lied. Unconvincingly, judging by the sceptical quirk of her brow.

Nick removed his glasses and set them on the bedside table, pinching at the bridge of his nose to keep up the pretence – though he's never felt more wide awake in his life.

Diane was still gazing at him dubiously and he got the feeling she wanted to say something, to question further, but instead she settled for "Sleep well" and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He closed his eyes and leaned into it, wanting to preserve this moment forever. But then Diane is gone, rolled over to her side of the bed.

Nick sighs and waits for sleep to claim him.


	2. Chapter 2

Diane couldn't sleep. Perhaps she had become accustomed to the lights and sounds of Gander Academy and now, when faced with the peace and quiet of her own bed, found she couldn't get off to sleep.

She suspected it had more to do with the Englishman quietly snoring beside her.

What an anticlimax, she thought. She had spent the entire afternoon eagerly getting ready for what was going to be a romantic dinner and then there was the added excitement and anticipation of having Nick spend the night (which, to be honest, she'd been hoping for even before she knew he'd been unable to find a hotel). It had all been building up to what was supposed to be a night of glorious firsts.

Well, this was a first, alright.

The first (and last) time she'd put herself out there like that. She thought back over their afternoon in mortification.

From their awkward greeting at the door to the spilled wine debacle – Diane didn't think she'd ever been felt up by accident before – to her less-than-subtle attempts at seduction, everything had been a flop.

She thought her little blue dress (saved for the most special of occasions) might have done the trick, at least she thought Nick had noticed, but then he'd gone back to talking about the roast.

She thought he'd finally been making a move on the couch (he'd been stroking her hair!) but then when she'd leaned in, put on all the moves short of literally batting her eyelashes and had whispered "let's go to bed" he'd turned around and started fluffing pillows!

Well, on second thought, those hadn't been her exact words, was it possible he just…misunderstood?

But no, surely he wouldn't have missed those signals. Nick was usually so sensitive to her needs. He was thoughtful and caring, it was one of the things that had first attracted her to him back in Gander.

And, honestly, if someone in a negligee beckoning you into her bed wasn't enough to tip him off, then maybe it wasn't that he hadn't gotten the message.

Maybe he had, and just didn't want to respond.

Oh god, she thought. I've made such a mess of things.

Determined not to let the tears that had been threatening spill out over her cheeks, Diane burrowed down further into her pillow and shut her eyes, slowing her breathing to match that of Nick's next to her.

Tomorrow was a new day and she could still enjoy the time she had with Nick, even if it wouldn't be spent the way she'd like it to be. She could still be perfectly friendly and play the good host.

_Lord, give me strength_, she prayed. _This is going to be difficult_.

Nick awoke to the earliest rays of sunlight slanting in through the gap in the curtains. It disoriented him for a moment because the Gander Academy gymnasium didn't have curtains. Neither was his army cot usually quite so comfy.

Then he remembered.

Dallas.

He was at Diane's house. In Diane's bed. And, he realised with mounting alarm, at some point in the night he had wrapped both arms and one leg around Diane herself.

He was snuggled tight against her, his nose buried in the crook of her neck, strands of her silky hair tickling him under the chin. He could feel her back pressed against his chest, one of his arms draped across her waist holding her in place. The silk of her …nightgown? Slip? Whatever it was called, it felt heavenly beneath his fingertips.

One of his legs was bent at the knee and intertwined with hers, which brought her hips in deliciously close contact with… Oh god.

Not entirely sure he could explain this away on "usual morning responses" should Diane wake, Nick desperately began thinking about cricket, the stock exchange, anything but the way Diane's curves felt pressed up against him.

She stretched and turned in her sleep, wriggling even closer and God, this was it, wasn't it? He'd died and gone to … Heaven? Hell? He couldn't quite decide which.

Nick focused on his breathing and eventually the thudding of his pulse slowed to match the pace of the woman who owned his heart.

There was little use denying it here and now where there was no one to hide it from. As he pressed his lips gently to her shoulder, Nick felt his eyes flutter closed once more and he drifted off.

The next thing that woke Nick was the feeling of soft lips being gently pressed against his forehead. Diane smiled down at him from where she was perched at the edge of the bed.

"I made you tea," she said, gesturing to the steaming mug on the bedside table.

"It's about all we have in the house. I might have to run down to the store if we're going to eat anything for breakfast," she shrugged apologetically.

"Toutons?" he asked and Diane couldn't help but laugh at the pleading expression he sent her way.

"I'm not sure I know how to make them, but I could probably whip up some pancakes," she countered. "Again, I'll have to run down the store."

As she stood to leave, Nick reached out and grabbed her hand to stop her. He gazed up at her, trying to find the right words to say everything he'd been feeling this past week. He hoped it showed in his expression. He couldn't quite tell without his glasses, but he thought perhaps he could read some of the same feeling in her eyes.

They both stayed frozen for a moment longer, caught in each other's gaze before Nick smiled gently.

"Thank you," he simply said.

She squeezed his hand in return, paused as if gearing herself up for something, then leaned down and kissed his hand before turning and bustling out down the stairs.

Nick dressed quickly and joined her, unable to keep the smile from his face.

It turned out Diane's local supermarket was within walking distance (albeit a lengthy walk and not one that was manageable with an arm full of shopping – however, in this instance they only needed limited supplies and had two sets of arms to carry them, so out they set) and as they walked Diane took it upon herself to give Nick the grand tour of all the Dallas sights including the corner where David had broken his arm falling off his bike aged 8 and the house that all the kids avoided on Halloween because everyone suspected there might be actual ghosts living there.

At some point along the way their hands had joined, swinging between them in an easy rhythm. Nick could feel something bubbling up inside him, like a warm light swelling around his heart. This was different to his usual arrhythmia. This felt like… hope.

"Thanks again for coming with me," Diane smiled. "I'm sorry I didn't have anything in the house – though it's probably for the best, given our unexpected extra time in Gander. I think any food I'd had would have been absolutely rotten by now!"

Nick huffed in agreement.

"Hang on, though, if you didn't have any food in the house, where did last night's roast come from?" he asked, puzzled.

"Oh. Well, when you called about dinner, I dashed straight out to the store – I hadn't even unpacked yet – and I didn't really think about getting anything beyond what we needed for the roast. You caught me off guard a little!" she laughed awkwardly.

"I'm sorry again about that. And thank you once more for allowing me to stay, I … I hope I haven't been too much of an inconvenience."

"Not at all. In fact, can I tell you something?" she asked, slowing their pace a little and turning to face him. "I wasn't sure how I'd go trying to sleep without having you by my side. Is that strange? To get so used to someone in such a short amount of time?"

Nick could feel that warm bubble get a little bigger.

"I know exactly what you mean," he replied.

They smiled fondly at each other before continuing on to buy their eggs and flour.

Somewhere between the store and home, the awkwardness of the previous evening had left them and the easy physicality of their relationship in Gander had returned.

Diane had begun gently teasing Nick as he carefully measured out milk into the bowl.

"Careful not to spill it like yesterday, we forgot to buy dishcloths!"

To which Nick very maturely stuck out his tongue before returning his focus to the measuring bowl.

This soon descending into them threatening to crack the eggs over each other and by the time the batter was mixed, they were flicking small dollops of the mixture at each other, shrieking and running around the kitchen bench like children.

Diane called a ceasefire, clutching her ribs and bent over in silent hysterics as she leaned against the sink.

"You've got it all over you!" she giggled, gesturing to his face with the wooden spoon. Nick reached forward, swiped a small amount of mixture from the spoon and dabbed it on her nose.

Diane gasped in mock outrage, stepping towards him and wagging a menacing finger.

"Nick Marson, how could you!"

He threw his hands up in a weak attempt at contrition and said "here, let me get that for you."

He reached out and gently slid his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the batter he found there. Nick's hand seemed to stay of its own volition, stroking her cheek as he stepped closer. Her hands had settled on his chest and he softly wrapped his free arm around her waist.

"Hey," she said softly, her eyes searching his.

"Hey," he replied, gazing down at her face before his eyes caught sight of the dollop of batter he'd smeared on the tip of her nose. "Oh, I missed a spot!" he said, before leaning down.

In future, when recalling this exact moment, Nick would say that it simultaneously happened very fast yet also went into slow motion. Diane had felt so right in his arms and her teasing had opened up the more playful side of his nature – rarely accessed in his world of spreadsheets and conferences. He'd seen a problem (the dollop of batter on her nose) and so the simplest solution had been to lean forward and swirl his tongue around the batter, wiping it clean and sealing his lips over the delicate tip of her nose with a kiss.

As he straightened up, there was a moment of hesitation from Diane that filled Nick with dread – had he read this wrong after all? Perhaps she really didn't want him here – but then she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet her in a passionate embrace.

Her lips tasted like pancakes and he could feel her fingers toying with the short hairs at the back of his neck. It was ecstasy.

Nick tightened his grip around her waist and deepened the angle of the kiss, pulling her closer and taking advantage of her resultant gasp to gingerly slide his tongue against hers.

He could feel her walking him backwards but it wasn't until he felt something firm at the back of his legs and heard something clatter to the ground that he realised they'd bumped into the kitchen bench and sent the pancake mix tumbling to the floor.

They pulled apart and looked silently down at the goopy mess oozing slowly across the tile. They looked up at each other again and promptly burst out laughing once more.

"So much for breakfast!" Nick said.

"I'm not complaining," Diane replied, taking his hand and leading him out to the sofa.

There was much to discuss – all of their near misses in Gander, how badly Diane had wanted to kiss Nick on the plane, how badly Nick had wanted to kiss Diane at Dover Fault, how infuriatingly awkward the previous night had been.

"Why didn't _I_ make a move? Why didn't _you _make a move!?" Diane cried, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "I drag you up to bed, come out wearing a negligee and you still don't get the hint?"

"A negligee, _that's_ what it's called" Nick mutters to himself.

She shook her head at him affectionately.

"Still, at least we can make up for lost time today," she smiled, before proceeding to do just that.

That was how they spent much of the afternoon, alternating between talking about everything and nothing and then when conversation dried up they simply reverted to kissing.

At one point, they switched on the television, but most channels were still looping footage of the events of last Tuesday, so they quickly turned it off.

"Can you believe something like this came out of something like that?" Diane asked him, toying with their joined hands.

"It doesn't seem quite fair does it, that we finally found happiness when so many people experienced such loss and destruction," he added.

"And have you found happiness?" she asked him, once again gazing up at him.

Nick settled one arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards him, planting a kiss in her hair.

"You know, I do believe I have," he said, the warm bubble of hope absolutely overflowing with joy now.

She turned her face up towards him, her lips meeting his in a gentle kiss. Nick raised his free hand up to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss once more. As Diane opened her mouth in a silent gasp, his tongue once again darted out to taste her.

She moaned softly and tilted sideways, falling into the sofa cushions and dragging Nick down on top of her. Diane thrilled at the warm weight of him pressing against her, their legs tangling together. She held him close, grazing her fingernails over his back through his shirt before reaching down to ruck it up out of his trousers and – at last – feel his smooth skin under her fingertips.

His kisses were like fire and he was hungrily trailing his way from her lips down her neck to the tender skin at the dip of her collarbone. His hands were gently tracing up and down her sides and a quick glimpse of his eyes revealed his pupils to be blown wide and dark – a thrilling sight in his usually pale blue eyes.

Diane felt her desire pooling low in her belly and, in between kisses, she managed to breathily utter "Come upstairs. And this time when I invite you up to bed, I don't mean to sleep!"

He paused to laugh gently and had the good grace to look at least a little shame-faced.

"I honestly just thought you meant it was time for bed!" he protested.

"Well this time let me spell it out for you more clearly," she purred. "I want you. Now, come upstairs and make love to me."

It was hard to ignore an order as direct and as, frankly as _sexy _as that, thought Nick, so he stood and in a burst of chivalry quite literally swept Diane off her feet (though they both soon thought the better of this, what with Nick's heart condition and Diane's back not being what it was).

But they walked upstairs together, hand in hand, to begin the first night of the rest of their lives.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the twitching of Nick's nose that woke him initially. Blearily blinking open one eye, he realised that the cause of said twitching was the tickling of a few stray hairs under his nose. The hairs belonged to a small Texan woman who, in the course of the night, had wound up burying her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around his torso.

This led to a kind of proximity that Nick could definitely get used to. Drawing her closer, he smiled the kind of supremely satisfied and peaceful smile that only comes with utter contentment.

For the first time in a long time, Nick didn't find himself waking up alone. He had someone in his arms and what's more, that someone wasn't just any someone, that someone was Diane.

Diane who made him laugh, who put him at ease and who radiated warmth and kindness. Diane who made his heart skip a beat in a way that couldn't be put entirely down to his arrhythmia.

Yes, for the first time in a long time, Nick was happy.

And, dare he hope it, Diane seemed happy too.

She woke with a stretch before snuggling back down into his arms and burrowing further into the pillow.

"Good morning," he smiled down at her.

"It certainly is!" she responded, kissing his collarbone. "Would you like breakfast? I'm glad we bought extra what with yesterday's mishap!"

She scooted out from under the covers and pulled on a robe. "I hope pancakes are ok. I mean, I think there's some old cereal from before my vacation, but it'd have to be stale by now. Or there's coffee, if you'd like…"

She trailed off, staring at Nick quizzically. He was gazing at her with the strangest look on his face

"What? Is my hair a mess? What are you looking at?" she asked, patting awkwardly at the hair framing her face.

He continued to smile up her, his blue eyes crinkling in a way she'd never seen through his glasses.

"I love you," he said simply. Then his brow furrowed as if he couldn't quite believe he'd said that out loud. But Nick had never been more certain of anything in his life.

He loved Diane. Was madly in love with her. And having breakfast with the love of your life sounding like just about the best thing he could imagine right now.

They both dressed and walked down stairs hand in hand, despite the staircase not quite being wide enough to properly accommodate the two of them. Nevertheless, they managed it; the thought of letting go and separating proved a little too much to bear in that moment.

Their second attempt at pancake-making proved much more fruitful than their first and they were soon sitting down to a maple-drenched mountain of light, fluffy goodness.

And that was of course the moment that the phone decided to ring.

Diane glanced at Nick apologetically before shuffling out into the hallway to answer it.

Nick was just reaching for the butter when she reappeared in the doorway.

"It's… for you," she said, puzzled. "It's the airline."

Nick almost dropped his fork – he'd completely forgotten. When he'd reached the head of the queue at American Airlines and they had told him there were no flights available, they'd asked for a contact number. Frustrated and distracted (and still clutching the scrap of paper with Diane's number like a security blanket) he had provided Diane's number at first, thinking he would simply notify them of the change of details once he'd booked a hotel.

Whoops.

He stood and walked out into the hall, picking up the receiver from where it lay on the small table.

"Hello, Nick Marson speaking…" he began.

"Nick, hi there! My name is Sally and I'm calling from American Airlines. I'm delighted to say that we've been able to find you a flight back to London, departing this afternoon at three-thirty. I hope that gives you adequate time to get to the airport for check-in?"

"Erm, yes. Yes, that should be fine… Er, thank you," he mumbled in a daze.

London.

He lived in London.

Drat.

Nick half listened as Sally rattled off their refund procedure for his original flight and how to claim once he returned, but his mind was plummeting back to the cold reality of his everyday life.

London, his job and his flat.

All that was waiting for him.

But so was Diane. She was hanging around the corner of the kitchen door, trying not to look like she was listening in.

Nick hung up the phone, unaware of whether or not he'd even wished Sally or Susan or whatever her name was goodbye. He turned to Diane.

"I've been given a flight back to London. It leaves today. This afternoon, in fact."

Lord, he'd better start packing.

"But….pancakes," Diane uttered, crestfallen. At the sight of tears welling in her eyes, Nick opened his arms to her and she rushed in to his embrace.

"You just got here, I don't want you to go," she snuffled, somewhere in the region of his sternum.

"I know," he responded, "I don't want to either."

But go he must, and so Nick quickly threw together the remainder of his things into his suitcase and entreated Diane for a lift to the airport.

"Of course," she'd said. "Do you even need to ask?"

The drive there was heavy with the burden of things unsaid. The silence seemed to only get louder the closer they got to the airport.

As soon as they were out of the car, their hands found their way back together, fingers clasped around the other's and they walked in solemn silence towards the check-in desk.

Diane came with him as far as the security check-in, before dropping his hand to bid a teary farewell.

"So you'll call?" she asked with a weak smile.

"As soon as I get back" he promised, before they reached for each other one last time.

She pressed her lips to his once more, then turned on her heel and strode quickly back the way they'd come, attempting to discreetly wipe at her eyes as she went.

Nick watched her disappear through the crowd and then he couldn't see her anymore.

And then he was alone.

Naturally.

Nick heaved a sigh, picked up his bag and trudged towards the queue for security.

Back to London, he thought. Back to the real world.

Back to his apartment, small and quiet – though that had always suited him.

Until now. Now, he wondered whether it might feel too cramped.

The lack of an upstairs bothered him in a way it hadn't done before, as did the lack of a kitchen island to make pancakes on.

_Or to spill them over_, he thought with a wan smile.

No, his apartment might not be anything special, but then again, it had never been somewhere he'd spent much time.

Phrases like "live-at-work" and "married to the job" sprung to mind, bitterly.

Not that he'd ever minded the long hours or the gruelling travel schedule; it was one way to see the world at least.

But now that he thought about it, he'd never been able to stop and take the time to look around, to go to pubs and kiss fish and climb to lookouts and make pancakes and…

Everything had changed since Gander.

_Well, no,_ he thought, _everything had changed since Diane._

The world sparkled with shiny new possibilities and his perspectives on work (on _life_ even) had changed since meeting her. _He _had changed since meeting her.

He was no longer happy with existing to fill the company's needs and the thought of his flat without Diane in it left him cold.

What was he doing, going back to a job that didn't value him, didn't listen to him (how many times had he told them he shouldn't fly so much, even getting his doctor to write a letter… ridiculous!) and ultimately didn't reward him in the way it used to. It didn't make him happy.

Diane did.

A little flicker of something strangely like determination flared up inside Nick and before he could second-guess himself, he had turned on his heel and started striding back through the airport towards the gates.

He was so steadfast in cutting a path towards the exit through the swarm of people that he almost missed it, until a small Texan whirlwind barrelled into him at full pelt.

"Oof," he uttered, reaching out his arms to steady the woman in front of him. "Diane!" he gasped.

"Don't go!" she said urgently, her eyes imploring him. "Stay with me, even just a few days more. I know you have a job and a life waiting for you back in London, but I love you and I just found you and I don't want to lose you. I know it'll be tough trying to make the long distance thing work, but I'm willing to try and I don't want to let you go. I want to be part of your life," she finished with a breath, her eyes searching his blue ones anxiously.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Diane," he said. "You _are_ my life. Since meeting you, I have climbed hills and kissed fish and danced in pubs with strangers and spilled pancakes and woken up with the most beautiful woman alive. Since meeting you, I have lived more in this past week than I have in most of my adult life.

I don't want to be without you, Diane. Please let me stay with you."

She let out a sob of relief before throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

Before Gander, Nick was the kind of man to scoff at such public displays of affection, or to simply avert his eyes and give whoever they were a wide a berth. But that was before Gander. That was before he met Diane.

Now, Nick was the kind of man to swoop his arms around her, pick her up and twirl her in a circle, thrilling in the delighted giggle it elicited.

As she was eased back down onto her feet, Diane took his hand in hers, smiled up at him and said simply "let's go home."

And so they returned to the house that would be theirs together for all the days to come.


End file.
